begin again
by necking
Summary: clarke decides to treat herself and gets bitten in the ass for it.


Clarke Griffin was having a bad day. From the creepy guy groping her ass on the subway back home, to her professor failing her on her most recent essay because he disliked her mom, she was desperate to find some way to turn this day around.

 _Fuck it. Treat yourself,_ she thinks as she walks into the _Baskin Robbins_ on campus. After all, what better way to cheer up than some ice cream?

She stares at the menu, not yet having a regular order. Ice cream is a delicacy for a broke art student like her- she's already spread thin on cash as is now.

Fishing in her wallet for some leftover change, she scrapes together three twenty-five- just barely enough for one scoop of mint chocolate chip in a small cone. She shuffles toward the counter, ready to order, and groans.

"Christ," Clarke mumbles under her breath. Manning the counter is her ex, Ontari. She scowls. It's too late to leave now, Ontari's already noticed her.

"Clarke," Ontari says, in recognition. "How are you holding up?"

Clarke rolls her eyes. She's really not in the mood for this. "Cut the crap, Ontari. If you really cared how I felt, you wouldn't have cheated."

Ontari sighs. "Why are you here, Clarke? Are you here to tear me down? I already apologized."

"Don't be so full of yourself," Clarke scoffs, "I really just wanted some ice cream. I forgot you worked here."

Ontari opens her mouth to say something, but frowns instead. With a quick jerk of heer head, she speaks, "right. Well, what can I get you?"

"Can I get the mint chocolate chip in a small cone?"

"Coming right up," she says, emotionlessly.

Clarke's glad she can watch Ontari handle her food- she wouldn't put it past her to spit in it after what she just said to her. Ontari could be petty like that, sometimes.

Ontari rings up the total amount of her small, sad cone, "that'll be four twenty-five."

Clarke wordlessly hands her the change, ready for Ontari to hand her the cone in her waiting hand. When Ontari pulls the cone back, Clarke glares.

"What the fuck?" She asks, angrily.

"You're missing a dollar."

If looks could kill, Ontari would definitely be dead by now. Instead, she stares back at Clarke, unfazed by her glowering.

"The menu says three twenty-five," Clarke says, still angry.

Ontari blinks. "Yeah, on weekdays from 12:00-4:00. What time is it now?"

Clarke looks at the clock behind her. _4:03._ She groans in frustration. "C'mon, Ontari! It's only three minutes past that! Can't you cut me some slack?"

"I was drunk, can't you cut _me_ some slack?" She cuts back.

"You cheated, do you even _know_ how unreasonable you sound?"

Ontari's face hardens for a second, before smoothing back to a neutral expression.

"Fine," she agrees, lips pursed. Ontari hands her the ice cream cone, but not before removing half of the already small scoop off the top. "Here."

Clarke wants to yell at her for pulling that kind of trick, but finds she's too tired. She sighs and accepts the ice cream cone anyway.

Exiting the store, Clarke pushes her earbuds back into her ears and tries not to think about her _unfortunate_ interaction with Ontari. In fact, she's so engrossed trying to distract herself from Ontari that she doesn't notice the slim body coming toward her at an alarmingly fast rate.

The body knocks into her, causing Clarke to drop her ice cream all over the front of her shirt. She stares at the sad corpse of what was once her delicious dessert, now all over her favourite top.

"Oh, jeez. I'm so sorry," the clumsy fuck-up of a person says. "I didn't see you there."

But Clarke doesn't hear the stranger. Before she even realizes it, tears are spilling from her eyes.

"Shit," the stranger starts. "Hey, are you okay?"

Clarke proceeds to cry harder. She knows what a mess she must look, crying over a soiled ice cream.

"I can… I can buy you another?" The stranger offers, awkwardly.

It's then that Clarke looks up to meet green eyes. The stranger is _hot._

"Hey, aren't you in my poly-sci class?" They ask.

She sniffles, and struggles to wipe her tears away. "Ts-tsing?" She stutters.

"Yeah," the stranger smiles warmly at her. "I'm Lexa."

"Clarke."

"So about your ice cream- can I get you another? Or will you start crying again?"


End file.
